I clench my fists, nerves high as I see the caller ID.
It’s like she fucking knew I’d need her right now.
With a trembling hand and for the first time in fucking years, I answer my phone.
“Hey, little sis,” I croak, and Whitney sucks in a breath before letting out a cry that breaks my fucking heart.
I promised Drew that I’d call Whitney, but with her being attacked, then the baby, and the kidnapping, and the brothers, I just couldn’t. Joel is right, I need to return to my family, and answering my sister is the first step in healing my guilt.
“You answered,” she sobs, and I drop my head.
“I did, Whit, I’m so fucking sorry,” I choke, my emotions getting the better of me, her pain becoming mine, knowing I caused this.
“I miss you…” she sobs, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the fucking guilt pours out of me.
“I miss you too, Whit,” I whisper as I lean against the counter, and I command gently, “Tell me about college, little sis, tell me about your life…”
***
I walk into my girl's studio an hour later, my energy fucking draining bit by bit after the phone call with Whit.
She spent the whole time crying despite trying to tell me about her psychology classes. All I could make out is that she will be graduating with honors, making me fucking proud.
I’ve missed so much because of my guilt, my pain, and that just heightens both even more. It scares the shit outta me, returning. But I know I can’t stay gone much longer, I need to go home.
My family needs me.
Music hits my ears as I walk through the double doors. Smiling softly as I watch my girl bend at the knees, her arms outstretched in front of her, a serene look on her face.
This girl, fuck, she leaves me speechless with how kind she is, and normally, I wouldn’t interrupt her while she’s coming up with lesson plans, teaching, or rehearsing, but we need to talk.
“Your dad, huh?” I say loudly over the music, and our eyes connect through the mirror wall.
Drew stands and keeps her eyes on me. She grabs the remote off the side and turns the music off before turning to face me.
She’s in a light pink leotard with a short, black netted skirt at the front and long at the back, her light pink slippers, and her hair in a low, neat bun.
Her bump is cocooned safely and is visible as a soft glow radiates from her.
She looks fucking beautiful.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks softly, and I shake my head as I slowly walk over to her.
“I’m in awe of you,” I whisper as I cup her cheek, just stopping shy of our bodies touching, and warmth spreads through me. “I fucking love you, Drew,” I choke, “I love how much you know me and what I need. I love how you care so much about me that youare willing to leave the only home you’ve ever known. I love that, yet again, you’ve gone out of your way to help me. I love that you love me despite my past. I fucking love you, Drew, and even though I don’t deserve you, I’m never letting you go.”
She opens her mouth, probably to scold me for putting myself down while her eyes tear up. I quickly put my thumb on her mouth before she can say anything, and taking a deep breath, I choke, “Come home with me, Drew. Uproot your life for a selfish jackass and come home with me but not as my girlfriend or the mother of my child, but as my wife, my old lady,” I gently rub the tears that fall down her soft cheeks and I rasp, “Little Bird, marry me before we go home. Marry me and make me the happiest man alive.”
Her eyes race between mine and I can see there is so much she wants to say but Drew being Drew knows me and knows what I need as she says one little word that sets my body alight. For the first time in years, happiness spreads through me without guilt, my future finally something that I’m looking forward to, and I slam my lips against hers feeling so fucking grateful she gave me a chance.
“Yes.”
Chapter 27
Drew – Two Weeks Later
I breathe through my nose and try to keep a soft smile as I join the fourteen-year-olds I've taught for two years in a full pointe pirouette. Instead of staying silent, the crowd before us cheers and claps. Their applause growing louder as I carefully begin anentrechattowards the side, conscious of my sixteen-week bump.
As I stop just outside of view, I spin and watch as every one of my students spins onto the stage, and my eyes tear up, my nose stinging as the cheers get louder.
